2859: The Fearsome Foursome
by Halfrobotchicken
Summary: Brittany and Santana attend a very important wedding.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_"Hey babe, it's just after six…just checking to see if we should- Charlotte! Get down from there! … All the way down… Anyway, I was checking to see if we should go ahead and eat without you…again. Call- Yeah, Max. No, it's just her voicemail. Okay, okay. I'll tell her…Max wants to take Ruffles to the park tomorrow. Call me when you can. Love you." _Brittany heard a tiny voice in the background. _"And Max loves you." _And right before the Santana hung up, _"And Charlie loves you lots and lots."_

"Damn," Brittany muttered to herself as she merged onto the freeway that would lead her home. She checked the dash for the time. 8:19. Santana was probably not going to be happy, nope, not happy at all. She punched the phone button on her audio system, "Call my wife."

She waited through four rings before disconnecting. Not a happy homecoming on the horizon at all.

Brittany sped up just a little. Maybe something she should have done a few hours ago as she sat at her desk looking at storyboards for the new commercial New Directions was producing for a national chain of tax firms.

She loved everything about her job. She always had. And now she was responsible for everything since Holly Holliday had died in a tragic attempt to paraglide into the Super Bowl halftime show. In better news, Holly had left Brittany the whole shebang. New Directions was hers. Unfortunately, sometimes that made time with her family a bit scarce.

When she pulled into her driveway, she saw that the house seemed dark. She parked her car next to Santana's SUV in the garage and grabbed her bag. While walking to the door, she nearly tripped over Max's brand new bicycle. She cursed and righted it, leaning it against the wall.

"San," she called out when she was inside.

Nobody answered.

Brittany set her bag on the kitchen table as she made her way through. She threw her jacket over it and saw dishes stacked in the sink from dinner.

"Santana," she said a bit louder than before. "Maxxy? Charlie?"

Santana's cell phone was resting on the countertop. Brittany clicked the button and watched as the screen lit up with a background picture featuring all four family members. The picture is just so like Santana. She's actually the only one with her eyes open, which looks like she just popped her head into a picture of the rest of them napping.

Brittany smiled at the picture before noticing that the indication of her call was still displayed on the screen.

When her family was finally located, Santana was sleeping on the couch. Her arms tightly wrapped around their baby. Of course, Charlie was hardly a baby anymore. She had turned three last month. That didn't stop her from drooling on her Momma's shoulder, though. Max was curled into a ball, head resting on Santana's lap. The family dog, Ruffles, had taken up residence on Max's feet. The soft glow of the abandoned television provided just enough light to illuminate a picture perfect moment. She pulled out her cell phone to capture it when she heard the most annoying sound.

"Cute, huh?"

Brittany jumped and dropped her phone and then in her haste kicked it right under the couch.

"Were you going to take a picture?" the voice asked. "Don't worry. I got one already. It's probably grainy, though. You should probably get one. Or I'll email you mine…just did."

At first, Brittany feared the very worst. Rachel was there. She was in the house. The voice was coming from inside the building. Then, for a split second, she considered the possibly that God had the same voice, but that was outrageous. God's voice was probably deeper, more of a bass. She eventually landed on the most probable explanation.

She turned to the soft glowing television, that was actually not so soft and glowing when it was 50 inches of Rachel's face.

"You scared the hell out of me," Brittany said to the tv.

"Sorry," Rachel apologized. "I was trying to be quiet."

"Why?" Brittany looked again at her sleeping family. "They're asleep. Why didn't you just end the chat?"

"We were in the middle of an important conversation," Rachel said. "She just fell asleep. I figured when she woke up, we could continue said conversation."

"A conversation about what?"

"Oh, Britt," Rachel did her condescending chuckle laugh, "The wedding, of course. I have a week to pick an escort. Interviews have to start ASAP. That escort must have some viable project going on. Project viability requirements must be considered."

"A movie or record release," Santana said groggily. "Viability requirements."

"Hey!" Brittany said to her waking wife. She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her lips as she collected Charlie.

"Movie," Rachel said. "Anybody can just put a record out. All those kids that win SingChamp put records out within the month."

"Well, anybody can upload a movie to Youtube," Santana argued. She nudged Max, who sleepily complained.

"True," Brittany said as Charlie wrapped her arms around her Mommy's neck and snuggled in. "I made a behind-the-scenes commercial documentary last year. It won an Internet Commercial Documentary award for best self-published behind the scenes commercial documentary under half an hour."

"If I remember correctly, Sugar won Best Non-Actress in a Internet Commercial Documentary for that."

"Supporting Non-Actress, actually," Brittany answered.

"What happened to awards being a sacred, highly publicized thing?" Rachel wondered. "I long for the good ol' days when it meant something to get a coveted award. You know, before you-know-who won that Oscar."

"Someone's still bitter about a breakup," Brittany whispered.

"I broke up with her!"

"You keep saying that," Santana said. "But when you're so defensive, it makes me question that validity of your statement."

"I think 'award-winner' needs to be added to the list of viability requirements," Rachel changed the subject. "Highly publicized, but not necessarily an Oscar. Since the Academy gives them out like candy."

"No," Santana shook her head.

"I insist," Rachel demanded. "This is a big event, Santana. It's a merging of entertainment and politics."

"Yes, you've mentioned how important it is…to you."

"He's marrying the president's son…in a big gay ceremony. Big deal!"

"Huge deal," Brittany agreed.

"For Kurt," Santana reminded everyone. "Not Rachel."

"I introduced them," Rachel said proudly.

"Like you introduced Brittany and me?"

"Yes, exactly like that," Rachel said in wonder. "Damn, I'm good at matchmaking."

"We'll continue this tomorrow," Santana said, not bothering to jump into that argument for the hundredth time.

"I want to fin-"

Santana used her "Rachel Remote" to shut off the camera. She held it up in triumph to Brittany, "I love this thing. Seriously, if I had this thing back in New York, I would have never left."

"Hey!" Brittany looked offended.

"Oh, yeah," Santana playfully pointed. "I came for you, not to get away from her. Yeah, yeah."

"Su-ure," Brittany rolled her eyes.

"You got me," Santana set the remote down.

"I did," Brittany responded. She shifted Charlie slightly and called for her son, "Max, get up, bud."

Santana ruffled his messy hair, "Bed time. Let's go."

"Ugh," Max tried to burrow further into the couch. "Gunna sleep here."

"Not a chance, kid," Santana said, grabbing a foot to tickle.

"Mom!" He pulled away quickly. "No, no, no."

"Santana," Brittany admonished her wife. "Don't get him riled up."

"Okay!" Max gave in after just a few seconds of tickling. "Okay, I'm going."

"Thank you." Santana gave Brittany a smug look. "It works like a charm."

Max got up, rubbing his sleepy eyes and made it a few steps before Brittany stopped him.

"Wait, wait," Brittany interrupted. "Max, get Mommy's phone. It's under the couch."

He sighed, but still immediately complied. The little guy crawled under and pulled it out. He returned it to his mother, "Here, Mommy. If you keep dropping it, you're going to break it."

Brittany took it with her free hand. "Thanks for the advice."

"Sure thing," he said as one corner of his mouth turned up.

"Bed. Go. Now."

"Brush your teeth first," Santana reminded him. "I'll be in a minute."

They watched Max trudge off, with Ruffles hot on his trail, until Brittany turned her attention to Santana. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your message until I was in the car."

"Figures," Santana eyed her. "You never called, so eventually I just fed the kids sugar cookies and grape koolaid and them run amuck."

"Excellent mothering!" Brittany held up her hand for a high five.

"Up top," Santana said as she slapped Brittany's hand.

The sound startled Charlie, who lifted her head of her Mommy's shoulder.

"Hi baby girl," Brittany said immediately to try to head off any outburst.

It seemed to work as Charlie gave her a little smile. "Hi Mommy."

"Oh, yeah," Santana frowned. "You get smiley, happy Charlie. I got whiny, spoiled Charlie all night."

"She loves her mommy."

"Hm," Santana rolled her eyes. She rubbed her hand over the girl's back. "That she does."

"You two are just too much alike," Brittany imparted. She let Charlie examine her earrings in detail. "You both have that Lopez attitude."

"She's spoiled."

"So are you."

"Possibly."

"And you're both gorgeous," Brittany said before giving her daughter a smooch on the cheek. "Right, Charlie?"

"Uh huh," Charlie agreed.

"My girls are the prettiest girls ever," Brittany sing-songed.

"I see you're trying hard to make me forget that you were working all night."

"Noooo," Brittany said, grabbing for her wife. "I'm just saying."

Santana easily let herself be pulled in and accepted the kiss from her wife.

"Kissies!" Charlie reached out and smushed their heads together.

"Moms!" Max shouted after they heard the bathroom door shut. "My teeth are brushed, are you coming?"

Santana lingered for a split second. "Yeah, Max," she called. She returned her attention to Brittany, "Do you want to double team or go one-on-one?"

"Double team," Brittany answered.

"K," Santana acknowledged as she headed for her son's room. "Pick a book, bud."

"Got one," Charlie said, knowing the routine well by now.

By the time Santana, Brittany, and Charlie arrived, Max was already in bed. Ruffles had already staked his position at Max's feet. Max flashed the book at them as they entered. "This one, Mom."

"Again?" Santana asked.

"It's my favorite!" Max defended his choice.

"Okay." Santana smiled and climbed in next to him.

She took the book and began to read while Brittany and Charlie slid into bed on the other side.

It didn't take long before Santana was reading to Brittany while the kids slept through the end of the story they'd both heard a hundred times. When she finished, she set the book on Max's nightstand.

"So why so late?"

"I had to sign on off some storyboards for Beth and Taxes."

"Ah," Santana said as she rolled over to her side and brushed down Max's hair. "How's it looking?"

Brittany arranged Charlie in between herself and Max and turned to mirror Santana's position. "On time."

"He needs a hair cut," Santana curled some of Max's curly hair around her finger.

"Yeah, I'll take him tomorrow after we take Ruffles to the park," Brittany offered as she tucked a few longer strands behind her son's ear. She glanced up to Santana to gauge her mood. "So...we also had the L.A. expansion meeting."

"Yeah?"

"That's an interesting choice," Brittany mentioned quietly. "Lots of advantages."

"Los Angeles, huh?" Santana breathed. "What happened to Chicago?"

"It's still on the table," Brittany said. "And Dallas."

"Dallas," Santana thought about that. "That might be interesting."

"Not as interesting as L.A." Brittany stilled herself for an argument. "I know what you're going to say."

"I'm not saying anything."

"I just know that wouldn't be your choice."

"No, it wouldn't."

"But I have to think about all the options."

"Of course, you do." Santana reached over, palm up, waiting for Brittany to clasp her hand. "And we'll go wherever you do, but…"

"But you hate Los Angeles."

"No, I don't," Santana denied that. "I just don't want to raise my kids in that environment. I can't have Charlie growing up to marry some two-bit rapper."

"Are you more worried about Charlie marrying a two-bit rapper or Max getting some actress knocked up?"

"I'm equally worried about both those scenarios."

"Are these the kinds of things all parents worry about or are we just overly neurotic?"

Santana thought about that for a moment, "I bet it's universal."

"We don't have to move, San. We both love it here. We love the house. The kids are comfortable here. We don't have to move," Brittany tried to assure her. "I can just send somebody else or I can go back and forth."

"No," Santana said resolutely. "No. We're not doing that."

"I don't like the idea-"

"No, Britt," Santana repeated. "We've done that. To try now would be…just no. If you go, we're all going. We'll be together."

"Babe," Brittany squeezed her hand. "We don't know what's going to happen just yet."

"Yeah," Santana shifted back into Max's pillow. "First we have to get through this wedding."

"Shouldn't you be saying that with more pizzazz?"

"Pizzazz? No, I refuse to," Santana scoffed. "I'm so tired of hearing about that damn wedding."

"But it's the wedding of the century, didn't you hear?"

"Oh, I've heard," Santana complained. "Were we this annoying before our wedding?"

"Oh hell no," Brittany said quickly. "Kurt is a regular bridezilla, but Rachel…I mean, she was crazy, but this is..."

"It's on a different level."

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. "But just another week, babe. Then back to regular Rachel business."

"One wedding, that's all."

"We'll just power through this trip," Brittany said as her eyes suddenly got heavy. "Then we'll concentrate on the expansion."

"Both our families in their entirety, plus Rachel's crap and Kurt's wedding," Santana shuddered just thinking about it. "Not to mention dealing with the kids away from home. It's going to be crazy."

"Isn't it always?"


	2. Chapter 2

Brittany Pierce had been waking up to stare into deep brown eyes for nearly ten years. That was pretty much constant, a tradition that never wavered. Although that wasn't to say it was always the same set.

This particular morning, it was her daughter's eyes.

As soon as Brittany's eyelids parted, she was greeted with Charlie about three inches from her face.

"Foo Loos!"

And that's how Charlie asked oh-so-nicely for her favorite breakfast.

"K, Foo Loos, mhm," Brittany answered in her morning shorthand. She raised her head just enough to see over Charlie and to Santana's abandoned side of the bed.

"Mommy, foo loos!" Charlie demanded her attention. This time she produced her favorite cereal bowl to demonstrate just how dire the situation. She pointed to the bottom, clearly lacking a morning treat.

"How did you get that?" Brittany asked. "Where's your Momma?"

Charlie shrugged.

"Did Max sent you in here?" Brittany looked her over suspiciously. He had been known to send his sister in on dangerous missions before.

"Nooo," Charlie said way too innocently. The young girl pulled on her Mommy's hand trying to get this breakfast thing going just a bit faster.

"Alright, Charlotte," Brittany said sternly. "Give Mommy a second, okay?"

Charlie complied, but with obvious annoyance. "Ooo-kay."

"You're just like your mother, girlie," Brittany said sat up in a sitting position.

"With a little more restraint," Santana commented as she came out of the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel from a morning shower. She leaned over to give Charlie a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Charlie Pierce."

"Foo loos?" Charlie held up her bowl.

"Be patient," Santana told her, knowing full well that Charlie didn't know the meaning of the word. She eventually crawled another foot to deliver her wife's kiss on the cheek as well, "Good morning, Brittany Pierce."

"Good morning," Brittany greeted her. "We've got to get some Fruit Loops into this child immediately."

"Your kid _is_ very demanding," Santana pointed out. "No idea where that came from."

"None?"

"Nope."

"Hm."

"Foo Loos!" Charlie's patience was wearing pretty thin.

Ten minutes later, Brittany and Charlie had made their way to the kitchen to prepare the family's morning meal.

"Loop!" Brittany opened her mouth wide for Charlie to throw a Fruit Loop in it. Charlie reached into her bowl with her tiny little hand and threw it. She actually had pretty good aim for a three year old. Either that or the years of practice playing the same game with Max had really paid off for Brittany. "Yay."

"Loo!" Charlie said right after throwing her Mommy a piece. She then made the same throwing motion, but stuffed a Fruit Loop in her own mouth. "Way!"

Half the battle was knowing when it was coming and when it wasn't. A couple had already bounced off her chin while she was slicing up a banana to offset the cereal.

"Hey!" Max complained when he entered the kitchen. "Why is she getting to sit on the counter?"

"Because she's feeding me," Brittany answered. "Loop!"

The next Fruit Loop hit it's target and Charlie replicated Brittany's fist pump.

"Loo!" Charlie stuffed another into her own mouth.

"Not fair," Max said after the athletic showing.

Brittany silently ended the game when she added milk to Charlie's bowl. Throwing milky Fruit Loops was strictly prohibited.

"I'm sure she'd gladly throw a Fruit Loop at you, too."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, life's rarely fair," Brittany schooled him. "You're a big boy now."

Max was a smart kid. A super smart kid. Typically, that meant that he totally caught on when one or both of his parents was completely patronizing him and he would try his best to use it to his advantage.

"So does that mean I can take Ruffles on a walk by myself?"

"Around the back yard?" Brittany knew this game. "Sure."

"Around the block?"

"Not a chance," Brittany denied. "You want me to slice you up a banana?"

"No," he answered. Sliced bananas were for babies that got to sit on the counter. He took a whole one to maintain his dignity.

"You know you can't take Ruffles by yourself," Brittany watched him peel his fruit. "But we'll go to the park this afternoon."

"We have to take him to the good park, okay?"

"I know, I know," Brittany said, popping some food in her mouth. She was keeping up with Max's conversation while watching Charlie pick smushed Fruit Loops out of her milk and smash them onto her tongue.

"We'll be gone for a whole week and Manny always takes him to that tiny park by his house. Ruffles hates it there, he can't chase the birds."

"Yes, Max," Brittany told him."We'll take Ruffles to the good park with the birds. Then we have to go get your hair cut."

Max immediately pointed to the areas in which it had curled up on the ends. He pulled on the strands trying to see for himself. "It's not too long yet."

"We're going to a wedding, son. It's kind of a big deal. You gotta look sharp."

"I'm already going to look sharp," Max reminded her. "I'm wearing a tuxnedo like Uncle Kurt's!"

"Tux-ee-do."

"Oh," Max giggled. "Tux-ee-do." Max gently laid down his banana peel and took a bite. While chewing, he asked, "Why didn't you or Mom wear a tuxnedo at your wedding?"

"Tuxedo," Brittany corrected again. "And we just didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because we both wanted to wear dresses."

"Why?"

"Because we like dresses."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Max," Brittany laughed. "We just do."

"I guess that's okay," he said.

"Well, thanks," Brittany said. "I'm glad you're okay with it."

The first thing Santana did upon entering the kitchen was beeline to Charlie to place her on the floor. That, of course, made Max smile in silent victory.

"What's the plan for today?" she asked when she transferred her daughter's bowl to the table.

"Ruffles has to go to the park," Max said quickly. "The good park."

Brittany settled Charlie into her chair. "Then Max's haircut."

"Are you going to get an appointment uptown?" Santana asked. "He can't just have a Supercut for this wedding."

"He's six," Brittany answered. "Nobody's going to be paying attention to that."

"It's a big deal," Santana countered. "Kurt's marrying First Gay, Britt. There will be a million photos. There will be all kinds of entertainment magazines with these pictures splashed all over the cover. And, I'm not about to have my boy looking like he got a cheap haircut."

Brittany gave her a long stare before saying, "You sound like Rachel right now."

"This would be one instance in which that crazy bi- billygoat would be right."

"…Fine," Brittany sighed. "I'll make an appointment. You know it'll cost seventy-five bucks, right? Just to get a trim. For our six year old boy."

"For the good of our child, Brittany. Seventy-five bucks seems reasonable when it's for the children."

"...Okay."

"Thank you, babe," Santana smiled sweetly. "What else is on your agenda?"

"I have to go in and check on a few things."

"How many things?"

"One," Brittany bit her lip. "Maybe two things."

"I thought Will was taking care of everything this week."

"He is," Brittany nodded. "He'll be there. Sugar's on strict orders to behave. Pam will be there to keep me updated. And I will be in New York with you and our kids watching our best friend marry the president's gay son of his dreams."

"Eh."

"What?" Brittany dipped a spoonful of cereal out. "You're going to have to act more excited than that."

Santana waited until she had slipped into her seat before elaborating. "Different eh."

"The other eh?"

"Yeah."

"Santana," Brittany started. "You had your chance to say something months ago."

"But I couldn't."

"Yes, you could have."

"He was dating the president's son, Britt," Santana said. "I couldn't say I didn't l.i.k.e. the guy. The Secret Service probably had me bugged."

"Like," Max said out loud.

"Oh, they totally do," Brittany was convinced. "That's why I always read my emails in c.o.d.e."

"Code," Max said proudly.

"Plus, it wouldn't have mattered. What if Kurt hadn't liked you? Would that have made me feel any differently?" Santana waited a beat before answering her own question. "No."

"But, if he hadn't, you would have expected him to say something," Brittany said. "Even if you didn't like it. Because he's your best friend and you trust his j.u.d.g.e.m.e.n.t."

"Jugamit," Max said, then frowned.

"He obviously loves the guy," Santana said to end the line of thought. "And I have to figure out how to land Rachel a high profile date in a week."

"That won't be hard." Brittany took Charlie's empty glass of juice to refill it. "Everybody wants to be seen at this thing. It's the event of the decade."

# # # # #

"It will be the event of the century," Rachel said in her most high-pitched voice. "Think A List."

"I am thinking A List, Rachel."

"Okay," Rachel huffed. "Think Double A List."

"Wait, you want to take a woman?"

"Santana, you know I haven't visited the Sapphic Kingdom since the unnamed one," Rachel said. "And you."

"Not me."

"For a minute, though."

"Not even a second," Santana was starting to get riled. "And I have legal documentation that forbids you from ever mentioning that."

"Momma, you be Momma," Charlie's voice immediately cooled Santana's jets. The little girl was handing her the slightly bigger WeeOne figurine. This one had black squiggly lines on its head, which had prompted Charlie to name it Momma.

"Sure, girlie," Santana accepted the toy and focused her attention on Charlie's WeeOne Mega Home that they got for free when Brittany had delivered a kick ass ad for their parent corporation. "Who will you be?"

"I'm Charlie!" she answered with a smile.

"Oh, good idea," Santana said as she bounced her toy around the dollhouse.

"Mom," Max said from his favorite chair. He didn't really even look up from his computer and whatever game he was clicking away on. "How much longer will Mommy be at work?"

"Not too much longer, Max," Santana said for the third time. "You just asked ten minutes ago."

"Will she home in enough time to go to the park?"

"Did she say she would?" Santana asked.

Max looked up. "Yes."

"Then yes." Santana leaned toward him, "What are you playing anyway?"

"I'm not playing." He flashed the screen of his handheld computer. "I'm studying."

"Okay."

"You know what always helps me pass the time, Max?" Rachel asked.

"What?" Max glanced up to the television broadcasting Rachel Berry into their living room.

"Googling high profile celebrities," she answered.

"No," Santana pointed at her. It wasn't very threatening considering the 3000 mile distance. "Max does not work for you. And he's not allowed to google."

Max nodded at the truth in that statement. "I googled Mom one day."

"Thank God it wasn't Google images, huh," Rachel laughed.

"Shut up!"

"Ummm," Charlie immediately pointed to Santana with her hand over her mouth. "Can't say shut up."

"No, no, we can't," Santana agreed. "That's bad. You're right. Let's not say it, okay."

The signal of the washing machine rang through the house and Santana jumped up, handing off Momma WeeOne to Max. "Play with her for a second."

"Mo-om!" Max complained.

"Just for a second." Santana put the toy in his hand. "Do you want clothes for the trip?"

He shrugged.

"The correct answer is yes."

"Yes," he said, not nearly as enthused as he should be.

"Then play with your sister for two minutes."

"K." He took the Momma doll, but exchanged it for the one that Charlie had aptly named Max. "But I'll be me."

"Awesome," Santana patted his back. "Thank you."

It had been literally three minutes when she returned.

"…And that is the day that you, Charlotte Lopez, will become a woman."

"What are you doing?" Santana's first instinct was to clamp her hands over her daughter's ears. Instead she just whipped her up and gave Rachel a stern look. "Rachel, what have I told you about talking to Charlie without supervision?"

"Oh, relax," Rachel waved her off. "I was telling her about her bat mitzvah."

"Rach, she's not Jewish."

"Neither is Kurt," Rachel shrugged. "And I threw him a bat mitzvah last summer."

"Where's Max?"

"Ruffles was scratching at the door," Rachel answered. "So he took him out back. Said something about being a big enough boy to do that. I told him, sure, take the dog around the block."

"I miss the days when he was terrified of you," Santana said bluntly. She then hurried off, Charlie in tow, to make sure Max hadn't heeded Rachel's advice.

# # # # #

"Duck…Suck…Stuck…Luck…Tuck…"

"Please tell me that's the end of your rhyming words," Santana said as she carried a basket of the kids' clothes into the room.

"I'm giving a spelling test," Rachel pointed at Max. Of course, from Santana's viewpoint, she was just pointing at the camera.

"What?"

"Max's spelling test," Rachel repeated.

"She's helping me," Max said from his spot at the coffee table in their living room. He had a piece of paper of front of him and a pencil in his hand.

"Oh," Santana eyed her son. "I would have helped."

"Yeah," Max said. "But Aunt Rachel has nothing to do, but sit there all day talking to us. So, I emailed her my spelling list. I figured she wouldn't mind."

Santana laughed. "True."

"I don't just sit here all day, Max," Rachel complained.

"You kinda do," Santana said.

"Then what else do you do?" Max asked genuinely.

"Movies, music, and fashion," Rachel answered with flair. "Do you know who I am?"

"He can't google!" Santana reminded her.

Max looked at her with his eyes squinted. He looked over his shoulder at his mom and then back to Rachel. "Yeah," he said simply. "You're Aunt Rachel."

"Just regular, ol' Aunt Rachel," Santana said with a twinkle in her eye. "You should relish that, Berry. He just knows you for you and not all that other stupid crap."

"What stupid crap?" Max asked.

"Nothing," Santana said quickly. "And don't say crap."

"You just did."

"So, I can," she said. "I'm the mom. You can't."

"But why? It's just a word."

"I said so."

"But why?"

"Max," Santana said sternly. "Listen, I don't really care, okay. But, here's the deal. Your mommy would flip out. You say crap in front of her, I'll never hear the end of it. So, to keep that from happening, I have to tell you not to. Get it?"

"Got it."

"We're on the same page?"

"Yeah," Max answered. "If I say crap, Mommy will know I heard it from you. And then she'll say, 'San, did you say crap in front of Max?' and then you'll have to tell her that you did. And then she'll be mad at you _and_ me."

"You're a smart kid," Santana said. "Let your unemployed Aunt Rachel finish your spelling test."

"I'm not unemployed!" she heard Rachel argue.

"What exactly are you working on right now?" Santana asked her pointedly.

Rachel frowned and looked back at the list. "Truck."

# # # # #

"Hey," Brittany announced herself as she came through the back door.

"Mommy's here!" Charlie shimmeyed down the couch and immediately headed that way.

"Yesss!" Max jumped up and ran the opposite direction. Presumably to go get Ruffles ready for his trip to the park.

Santana had been strategically planning how to pack for their trip. Suitcases were opened and in various places. Stacks of clothes, according to owner, had been placed around the room.

"Oh, good," Brittany said as she carried Charlie in on her back. "You're packing."

"Mommy, down," Charlie asked as politely as she could muster so she could resume coloring outside the lines of her Princess Pony coloring book.

Brittany took a hard look and started to rearrange some of the things Santana had placed on the table.

"Honey, no!"

"I'm helping," Brittany insisted.

"No." Santana gently butt bumped her away from the suitcases laid out on the couch. "I'm packing for efficiency."

"I can pack for efficiency."

"If you pack there'll be ten pairs of jeans and one tube top for all four of us to share."

"That was one weekend trip to Colorado!" Brittany squealed. "It was a minor luggage snafu."

"I had to wear your dad's pajamas," Santana seethed. "And I've never forgiven you for it."

"One time."

"The only time you've ever packed."

"No, nuh uh, nooo," Brittany thought about that. "Hmm, okay. Yeah."

"Britt, you're so great at so many things," Santana hugged her, depositing a kiss on her shoulder, "But packing is not one of those things."

"Alright," Brittany really didn't want to help anyway. Attempting to was actually the best way to quickly get taken off the task. She checked her watch, "I'll take the kids while you finish up then."

"Sounds good," Santana said.

"Are we ready to go?" Max asked while pulling Ruffles on his leash. "I'm ready."

"Haircut first," Brittany said. "Then the park. Ruffles will have to cool his heels for a bit."

"Ruffles and I will meet you at the park," Santana told them. "Okay?"

Max considered the plan. "The good park?"

"Yes, Max," Santana promised. "We'll meet at the good park."

"Okay."

"Okay," Brittany said.

"Oooo-kay!" Charlie clapped.

# # # # #

"...So I got Charlie tucked in for her nap and grabbed some laundry and walk in on Rachel giving Max his spelling test," Santana recalled for Brittany.

The two of them were lying in bed, feet tangled, recapping the day.

"And?"

"And..." Santana turned to face her wife in the darkness. "It was Saturday. The kid's going to be out of school for a week and he's got Rachel giving him a spelling test in advance."

"He's proactive."

"He's a nerd." Santana blew out a breath. "We're raising a nerd."

"So he's a little nerdy," Brittany shrugged. "I like it. I'll buy him a pocket protector."

"No!"

"C'mon, San," Brittany chuckled. "He's smart. He likes to study and read. We really shouldn't discourage that."

"I don't want to discourage it," Santana said. "I just don't want him to be one of those kids that gets all stressed out about grades and achievements and...other nerdy stuff."

"It'll be fine."

"You say now. But, I don't want him to fall apart in ten years when he doesn't get an early admission to M.I.T."

"Oh, he would get into M.I.T," Brittany said with total confidence. "I know some people."

"I'm just saying, maybe we should...monitor that situation."

"Consider it monitored," Brittany readily gave in. She gave Santana a bit of a squeeze, "Hey you wanna have sex?"

"Uh..." Santana considered it. She was pretty comfortable in her flannel pants at the moment. "Do you?"

"I totally did earlier. You were wearing those jeans that make your ass do crazy things to me."

"On purpose."

"I know," Brittany laughed. "But then I got into bed..."

"Yeah." Santana poked her wife in the ribs. "Despite your overwhelming sexiness, I'm really tired."

"Me, too," Brittany nodded. "And I'm really sore from having to tackle Ruffles."

"When he starts chasing those damn birds, it's impossible to catch him."

"Maybe in the morning?"

"If we wake up before the kids," Santana agreed.

"Set your alarm."

"Somehow Charlie always hears it," Santana said. "She'd be here before your shirt came off."

"We should build some kind of obstacle course," Brittany suggested. "Something to distract them for like thirty minutes."

"Twenty."

"Twenty?"

"Probably fifteen if you skipped the whole teasing thing you do about mid way through."

"I thought you liked that," Brittany said.

"Oh, I do. Just not when we're pressed for time."

"I'll just lock the door."

Santana shook her head, "That's a meltdown waiting to happen, Britt."

"You know what's funny?" Brittany asked.

"What?"

"Ten years ago, in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, I never _ever_ would have imagined _this_ conversation."

Santana angled up just enough to kiss Brittany's chin. "Ten years ago, in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, I hoped and hoped one day we'd be exactly where we are."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Santana had to admit that working for Rachel Berry definitely had its perks. For instance, there was hassle-free air travel. Rachel just sent out her private jet and had them en route to New York. Then Figgins had been waiting for them to arrive at the private airstrip before whisking them across town to Rachel's Manhattan apartment.

As soon as the family entered Rachel's house, Kitty thrust a manila envelope into Santana's hands. "Rachel wants you to narrow the list down to ten," she said.

"Hello to you, too," Santana greeted her.

When Santana had taken back her job as Rachel's publicist, Kitty's job description shifted to more of a personal assistant capacity. They were both relieved to separate the two things finally. Surprisingly, they worked pretty well in tandem. It was especially evident when Kurt was around as well, but the wedding had consumed his every thought and action for the last few weeks.

"Hi," Kitty said without much change in expression. She did perk up just a little when welcoming the kids, though.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Rachel Berry," Kitty answered. "She wants me to go out and put an ear to the ground about possible wedding dates."

"So you're on this, too?"

"That and…" Kitty retrieved the list and read aloud, "locate that delicious cannoli I got from that little bakery in Brooklyn in 2006. Do not buy, pin the address in my Google map. Create a Google Map. Find a copy of Barbra Streisand's album Guilty on cassette tape and memorize all the Barry Gibb parts. Record yourself singing only those parts and post it in response to any Barbra Streisand fanmade tribute video online. And last," Kitty cleared her throat, "buy a birthday gift for my strictly biological, but still fairly involved mother. Return the gift and then go somewhere else and buy another gift for no less than 30% more than the first gift. Get it gift wrapped professionally, but handwrite the card in my handwriting. Use my personal calligrapher if needed."

Brittany was stunned into silence.

"Let it go," Santana advised. "That sounds like she's at a Level Eight, though. Anything else going on I should know about?"

"She's out right now, probably harassing some young Hollywood stud," Kitty said. She pointed upstairs, "But your suite is ready and Elliott is waiting in the Master Closet for Max's final fitting."

Another good thing about being connected to Rachel Berry is that she could get anyone to come to her for just about anything. She actually got Elliott Gilbert, the internationally famous designer of Starchild Clothing for Star Children, to custom make Max's tux for the wedding.

"Stand still," Brittany told the boy as Elliott pulled checked the length of his suit jacket.

"He's fine," Elliott said. "Almost done, Max."

Brittany watched just a second longer before doing a quick check of Charlie who was sandwiched between her moms. "Doing alright there, Charlie?"

Charlie had brought along her Pony Princess coloring book, so she was just fine.

When sure of it, Brittany returned to the various emails that had flooded her inbox in the last day or so.

Santana was busy with work herself as she casually leafed through the bio pages that Rachel gathered. "She's got actual royalty on this list."

"I'm not surprised," Brittany said. "Although, probably a little late notice at this stage."

"Why can't she be normal and just call a friend up and ask if they'd like to go to a wedding?"

Brittany laughed at the simplicity. "First, there'd have to be a friend. Second, that's too easy."

"I can't narrow this list down to ten," Santana was obviously frustrated. "I can't even narrow this list down to twenty. It's that ludicrous."

"Whatcha gonna do?" Brittany asked. Then quickly added, "Act a fool!"

Santana stared for a second, "You done?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know." Santana closed the envelope and set it aside.

The action prompted her daughter to climb up on her lap. "Ready go."

"Just a little bit longer," Santana told her. "We have to make sure Max's suit fits just right."

"You know who you should call, right?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'm telling you, San, the two of them were deeply in love."

"With the career perks of being tabloid fodder," Santana said. "Not with each other."

"She hasn't even dated anybody since then."

"Not true," Santana argued. "She was dating Backspace Bill for a while."

"Online. For a week and a half until she realized Backspace Bill wasn't MySpace Tom."

"Ouch!" Santana reacted to Charlie trying to steal her engagement ring off her finger. She had recently become wholly fascinated with any kind of jewelry. It was trait that Santana could fully appreciate.

"Hey now, girlie," Santana pulled her hand back. "You can't have that."

"It's pretty!" Charlie told her, still admiring its shininess.

"I know."

Charlie held out her hand in expectation. It was something that worked about 75% of the time.

"No, Charlie," Santana shook her head and curled the little girl's fingers back into her palm. "You can't have Momma's ring."

"Peas?"

"No."

Charlie squinted her dark eyes at Santana, completely pissed off that her momma refused to give into her whims.

"Not gonna work," Santana told her. "I invented that look. That's signature Santana, kid."

"Peas?"

"Your Mommy is spoiling you."

"Am not," Brittany said. "She's naturally spoiled."

"By you."

Brittany smiled at their daughter, "She's so cute, though."

"Uh huh," Santana rolled her eyes. "Wrapped around her finger."

Charlie pulled at Santana's hand again. "Peas, Momma!"

"It's not a toy, Charlotte."

"She likes diamonds," Brittany noted. "Sounds like someone else in the room."

"This," Santana let Charlotte take her hand, "is a very special gift your Mommy gave me."

"Why?" Max asked from his position in front of Rachel's full-length mirror. He was watching the action in the reflection.

"Because I loved her more than anything else in the whole world and wanted us to be together forever," Brittany answered. "And have babies and an air hockey table."

"Aww," Elliott fawned. "That's cute."

"You gave it to her so she'd marry you?" Max asked.

"I hoped she would."

"Yep, she gave it to me when she asked me to marry her." The smile on Santana's face was always immediate when reliving that day in the frozen food aisle at their nearby grocery store.

"And it cost Mommy a whole lot of money because Momma didn't want no brokedown, dollar store looking, knock off kinda bling."

"I never said that!"

"You implied it," Brittany said, clicking a few buttons on her phone. "More than once."

"My moms got married a really long time ago," Max told Elliott seriously. "Before I was even born."

"Wow!" Elliott humored him. "It must be cool to have two moms, huh?"

"I like having two moms," he said. His voice lowered just a fraction, "But sometimes not the sister."

"Max!" Brittany scolded him. "Be nice."

"I said 'sometimes.'"

"He did say 'sometimes,' Santana nodded. "Qualified and everything."

The shrill ding of Brittany's text notification interrupted them. The box on the screen flashed 'Pamela Lansbury: Should I schedule a trip to Los Angeles?'

Brittany glanced at Santana, who had already read the message by the look on her face.

"Go ahead," Santana shrugged.

"It's just to talk about locations," Brittany assured her. "Nothing has been decided."

"Okay, Moms," Elliott stood. He presented Max to them in his tuxedo. "He's grown a bit. I'm going to have to take the pants out just a little."

"Seems like he's getting bigger everyday," Santana said proudly.

# # # # #

"It's a lot of competition for a fairly small company," Brittany reminded her wife. "New York was my first option, you know this."

"Not so little anymore and with a lot of success," Santana said as she carried Charlie on her hip.

Brittany and Santana were still considering New Directions future expansion as they strolled through New York City on the way to Tony's, Santana's favorite pizza place.

"I got a whole lot of resistance within the ranks," Brittany told her.

"I know, I know," Santana sighed. "And I'm totally in support of New Directions spreading its wings…"

"I know you are, baby," Brittany said. "You just don't want to move."

"Me either!" Max said as he rode piggyback on Brittany's back.

"We wouldn't be moving forever, Max," Brittany told her son. "And maybe not at all. I'd just have to make a few trips to wherever we decide to set up the new office."

"There's no reason for you to worry about all that yet," Santana said to Max. "Mommy and I will get it all figured out."

"Santana? Santana Lopez?" a voice drifted through the crowd.

Brittany seemed to recognize the voice before Santana. It was evident with the tight-lipped smile that passed over her features. "That didn't take long," she muttered.

Santana looked around both directions and until landing on the source of the voice. "Seriously?" she whispered to Brittany.

"Santana! It is you!"

"Hi Quinn," she said during a half-hearted wave, which was the best she could do with Charlie hanging off her neck.

"I figured I'd run into you at the wedding, but this is very unexpected."

"Unexpected," Brittany said flatly. "Very surprising. You bet."

"When did you get home?"

Santana's first instinct was to say she wasn't home, which was strange even to her. She didn't bother, though. "Today."

"It's been a while," Quinn went about making small talk. "These must be your babies?"

"What gave it away?" Santana asked. She waited a beat before introducing her children. In doing so, she patted her son's knee. "The guy growing off Britt's back is Max."

"Hi, Max," Quinn stuck out her hand.

Max, being the standup gentleman that he was, shook the offered hand even if it meant knocking his bony elbow against his Mommy's shoulder. "Max Lopez, ma'am. I'm six years old. I like chocolate chip cookies and rock climbing."

"He's never been rock climbing," Santana rolled her eyes at her son's antics.

"I would if my moms would let me," Max assured Quinn.

"I'm sure you would," Quinn smiled. "And this little one?"

"Charlotte," Santana answered. "Charlie to her friends. You can call her Charlotte."

Quinn seemed to mull that over before moving on to Brittany, "Hi, Brittany."

"Quinn," Brittany acknowledged her. "Still divorced?"

"Engaged actually," Quinn wiggled a shiny diamond at them.

"Pretty!" Charlie yelled when she saw. She held out her hand, "Peas?"

"Congratulations," Santana offered. It was then, the aforementioned fiancé showed, looking like the smug assface he'd always been. Santana just knew. The coupling made all the sense in the world.

"Lopez," Noah Puckerman chuckled as he slid his slimy arm around Quinn's waist. "Long time, no see."

"Not nearly long enough."

"You've multiplied," he said referring to the kiddos. He winked at Brittany while adding, "And married up."

Max leaned closer to stare at Puck's head, "Why is your hair like that?"

"His decision making skills are lacking, son."

"You like?" Puck asked the boy as he skimmed over his head with his free hand. "It's a mohawk."

"He doesn't," Santana answered for him. She then turned to Brittany, "Britt, this is Noah Puckerman."

"Hi," Brittany greeted him.

"Noah Puckerman," Santana said again. "Paparazzi. Mohawk. Calls in the middle of the night."

"Oh, oh!" Brittany smiled widely. "_You're_ Noah Puckerman?"

Noah looked between the two women, "Uh…yeah."

"Wow, it's really great to meet you then," Brittany said. "You're everything that Santana said you would be."

"Well, thanks Lopez."

"Don't thank me. It's never been favorable," Santana said. "I still think you're a bootlicking bottom feeder, but you're kind of the reason I met my wife. So thanks for that." She then grandly gestured to her left, "This is Brittany."

"She's always had great taste," Puck said with a slimy wink.

"Yeah." Brittany instinctively took a step back. "San…"

"Well," Santana nodded, picking up what the wife was laying down. "Congrats again, Quinn…Puck, you're as nasty as ever. So, points for consistency, I guess."

"Thanks!" Puck said like he'd just been complimented. "Nice to see ya, Lopez."

"We're headed to Tony's, so…"

"You still love Tony's?" Quinn asked with a knowing smile.

"She does," Brittany said, mildly annoyed by the implied familiarity. "We all love Tony's. That's where we're going. Family dinner…"

"I guess we'll see all of you at the wedding, then."

"Of course."

"And I hear you've got a starring role, Max," Quinn said to Max.

Max nodded happily.

"See you," Brittany stepped away.

"Bye bye," Charlie waved.

"Bye," Quinn waved back.

"Bye Mohawk guy," Max said. He waited until they were several feet away before saying, "Can I get a haircut like that?"

"Absolutely not," both Santana and Brittany answered at once.

# # # # #

"Mom, will you take those off," Max pointed to the peppers on his pizza. "I don't like 'em."

"You haven't even tried them," Santana said. She was already picking them off anyway.

"I just know, Mom."

"You just know?"

"Yep," he answered. As soon as the peppers were removed, he started stuffing the pizza in his mouth.

Santana watched for a moment before turning to her wife. "So…"

"So?" Brittany asked as she cut Charlie's pizza into tiny bite size pieces.

"What was that about?"

"What?" Brittany asked innocently.

"You couldn't get away from Quinn fast enough," Santana pointed out.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brittany said sarcastically.

"Hm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"She annoys me."

"I know."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

"Because." Santana winked at her wife across the booth. "I'll admit that it's a little fun to see you jealous."

"Not jealous."

"Then what?"

"Annoyed, which is different," Brittany said. "I don't necessarily want to shoot the breeze with your ex."

Max's eyes widened a bit with that statement. "What's that mean?" he asked with his mouth open.

"Mouth closed," Brittany said to him. "Shoot the breeze? Means talking."

"Ex?" Max asked, still chewing.

"It's means somebody that you used to be friends with."

"Oh," Max accepted that. "Like Jack before he moved. Now he lives in Texas, so he's my ex?"

"Not quite," Santana said. "It's somebody who used to be your very best friend."

Max nodded, "Jack was my very best friend."

"More like a girlfriend or boyfriend, Max," Brittany explained.

"I have bo-friend!" Charlie announced.

"Is it Mr. Bear?" Brittany teased.

Charlie howled by that correct answer before she put a piece of pizza in her mouth.

Max, however, had stopped eating. "So that lady was your girlfriend?"

They could tell by the inflection of his voice that Max's mind was blown by this information.

"She was," Santana said. "Before I met Mommy."

"A really long time ago, bud," Brittany tried to minimize it as much as possible.

Santana leaned over and gave her son a quick kiss on the head, "So long ago, I barely remember it. I barely remember anything before I met your mommy."

"Did you have a girlfriend before Mom?" Max asked Brittany.

Brittany chewed slowly, trying to construct an answer for her very expectant son. Charlie bought her a few minutes when she suddenly darted toward Brittany's drink and she had to help the little girl to a drink of her water. Once Charlie was settled, she looked to see Max still patiently waiting.

"I did," she said simply.

"Who?"

"Nobody you know," Brittany said. "Just some people I liked to hang out with."

"Okay," Max said. He picked up his pizza, "Is Mom your favorite girlfriend?"

Brittany laughed out loud, "Max, she's my favorite everything…besides you and Charlie girl."

"Good answer," Santana said. "Good answer."

# # # # #

"Well, isn't that the most handsome family." Kurt announced his presence at the door to their suite at Rachel's later that evening.

"Uncle Kurt!" Max squealed as he hopped off the bed and hit the ground running. He took a flying leap into his favorite uncle's arms.

Kurt returned the hug and replaced the little guy on his feet. "How's it going, Max?"

"It's okay," Max said. "Moms brought me to be in your wedding."

"I know," Kurt said. "I'm so glad, too." He smiled brightly at Santana and Brittany, "Thanks moms!"

"You're very welcome," Brittany replied. "I'm confused, though. Should I bow in front of you now."

"Don't be silly," Kurt laughed. "Not until after the wedding."

"Of course," Santana said.

Kurt skipped over to the bed and planted himself between the two women. He tapped Charlie's arm. "Hi there, little lady."

Charlie yawned, "Hi Unkurt."

"You're pretty as ever."

"Tank you," she said politely as her eyes drifted closed.

Max had followed Kurt and returned to his Brittany's side where he anticipated that his mommy would give him a good night back scratch.

"How's my favorite family?" Kurt asked.

"Awesome," Santana smiled. "How's the first family?"

"Stoic," Kurt said peculiarly. "They're all business as usual. I'm stressed as hell."

"I bet," Brittany said. "Our wedding was stressful enough, I can't imagine having all the added public pressure."

"Then there's Rachel trying to take over."

"Surely you have enough resources at your disposal to get her to stand down," Santana said.

"You would think," Kurt mused. "Seems she's got a lot of fans in high places."

"And Sebastian?"

"What about him?" Kurt asked.

"Uh…" Santana caught Brittany's eye. "How is he?"

"Oh," Kurt shrugged. "He's fine."

"Excited about the wedding?"

"Sebastian? Yeah, he seems excited," Kurt nodded. "He's working on a new play right now, so he's been otherwise engaged."

"He's working?" Santana seemed surprised.

"Of course," Kurt answered.

"Plans all squared away?"

"Mostly," Kurt said with his natural flair. "Just a few things I need to take care of. Which reminds me, I have to make a phone call. You'll forgive me for dropping in and taking off so quickly?"

"Go," Santana said. "You're a bride. We totally understand."

"Thanks, dear," Kurt kissed her cheek before doing the same to Brittany before getting off the bed. He ruffled Max's hair, "He got an expensive haircut, didn't he?"

"Told you he'd notice," Santana said to Brittany.

"Tell him I'll be back to see him tomorrow."

"We will," Brittany said. "He's been excited about this for months. He can't wait."

"I'm really glad you're here," Kurt said sincerely. "Couldn't do it without you...all of you."

"Hey, Kurt," Santana stopped him just before he left. "...Congratulations. Nobody deserves happiness more than you."

Kurt looked surprised by the declaration. "Thank you, Santana."

When he had disappeared, Brittany smacked her lips loudly. "It's not fair to tell him now."

"I know."

"Or maybe it's not fair not to tell him now...or not..." Brittany linked a pinky with her wife. "Something to think about."


End file.
